


Rorschach Test

by novastar



Category: Hannibal (TV) RPF
Genre: Cheap Lipstick, Crossdressing Kink, Feminization, M/M, Oral Sex, Resolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-06 22:56:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6773677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novastar/pseuds/novastar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"One minute you can be kicking back, script in hand; the next, you're pressing your fingers into your best friend’s mouth and telling him he'd look beautiful in jewel tones."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rorschach Test

**Author's Note:**

> I have no shame and no beta reader.

Sometimes it's ridiculous how out of hand every day situations can change, how one minute you can be kicking back, script in hand; the next, you're pressing your fingers into your best friend’s mouth and telling him he'd look beautiful in jewel tones. Perhaps something red. 

Rewind. 

It's become a tradition at this point. Get a new script, lock themselves in one of their hotel rooms, order room service, and relax and alter the scripts to their hearts content. Mads in pencil, indecisive and contemplative. Hugh, pen. Permanent and impulsive. Also, apparently, prone to lost-in-thought chewing. Which is how they ended up here. 

“Oh fuck, this tastes horrible.” Mads, looking up from his script, only to find that instead ink smudging the script, it's now smudged all over Hugh’s mouth. It's somehow a mix of comically amusing and arousing. And also blue. Incredibly blue. 

Hugh, running to the bathroom and proceeding to make not-so-arousing spitting and gagging sounds as he scrubs at his face with a hotel washcloth that has better days, but this will probably be its end. By the time he comes back, Mads moves to sit next to his spot on the bed. Initially, he's done the math and determined the situation to be far more on the comedic side than the arousal side, but Hugh looks up at him and there's a lone spot of ink just below his lower lip. Then this happens. 

He finds himself reaching out and rubbing at the spot with his index finger, watching as Hugh’s lip twitches at the near contact, wondering what he'd do if Mads pressed further, pressed between his lips and rubbed against his tongue. Instead, he idly rubs at the spot for a few seconds before pulling his finger back and sucking it into his own mouth. Hugh glances up, pupils blown wide from just a simple touch. If he's this responsive now, what would he be like fully exposed?

Mads lets his thoughts wander, pictures Hugh tied up and squirming impatiently under his hands. When he comes back to reality, Hugh is still watching him silently. The damn spot is still there, so naturally that's an invitation. He's never going to be able to look at a pen the same way. 

He removes his finger from his mouth with an intentionally loud sloppy sound, just to watch the other man blush and start to turn away. That just won't do, so Mads reaches out with his other hand, resting it on Hugh's arm. Lightly at first, grip growing tighter as the Englishman blushes, his face giving away some but far from all of his secrets. Once he becomes convinced that Hugh’s attention is back where it belongs, he touches his finger back to Hugh's mouth. He misses the spot this time, fuck the spot, he doesn't care about that, not right now, not when he's got everything he's ever wanted looking back at him. 

“That shade of blue doesn't really work on you, it's like you have never worn lipstick before. It has to be flattering to your skin tone.” Moving quickly, he shifts on the bed, rolling Hugh to lie underneath him, left to stare up as Mads presses his finger to the center of Hugh's top lip, deforming the Cupid’s bow under the pressure of his fingertip. He looks beautiful this way.

“Can't say I have, no.” The second he parts his lips to speak, Mads takes the opportunity to explore deeper, to run his finger over the soft muscle of Hugh's tongue, just once, bringing it back out to trace it around his lips, leaving them shiny with saliva. Mads wonders to himself if he's leaving fingerprints, if he is invisibly laying claim to Hugh’s body, both inside and out. The thought makes his dick twitch inside his shorts and he grinds down against Hugh's hips, pleased to find a matching hardness against his. This time when their eyes meet, they maintain contact. 

“You should.”

“Should I?”

Mads pulls back to sit up straight, still straddling the younger man’s hips. He knows this position could go either way, dominant or submissive. Resting his hands against Hugh's face, thumbs pressing along his jawline, that can't be mistaken for submission. 

“I think you should. A dark red, something to bring out your eyes.”

“Something tartish.”

“You'd be the most beautiful whore.” And that, that brings out a flushing heat on Hugh's face so intense that Mads can feel it radiating against his hands. Interesting. 

“You like the idea of that, don't you? I can tell from the look on your face. I'd have to keep you all to myself though, lock you in here away from everyone else. A filthy girl like you could get into a lot of trouble looking all tarted up.” Hugh moans so loud, so recklessly, that for a second Mads worries that hotel security is going to come wondering. He takes the opportunity to advance their little game further, making a mental note to ask Hugh his opinions on gags, assuming that they'll do this again. Of course they will. He can already picture it, Hugh on his knees, ring gag in his mouth, making an awful mess of himself as he pleads for Mads to come closer and let him taste. The image is so vivid that Mads has to grab at his dick to stop from coming, desperate to enjoy the here and now. 

He lifts off of Hugh's hips, shuffling forward on the bed until he's straddling Hugh's chest, knees pressed against armpits and this can't be comfortable, but that isn't the point. Unzipping slowly, he watches the younger man’s face as he pulls out his dick and rests it against Hugh's lips, pushing against the cupid’s bow the same way his finger had. Surely this is all Hugh can smell now, the musky earthy scent of precum, and he must be desperate to taste, based on grasping groans and the subtle twitching of his lips. 

“Of course you wouldn't look so pretty for very long. Filthy little whores can never keep their makeup looking nice, they're just so desperate for someone to come mess it up, to suck dick until their lipstick is smudged and their mascara runs. You don't even need mascara with those pretty eyes, but you'd do it for the look anyway.”

Another loud moan and simultaneously Hugh squeezes his eyes shut tight, lost in a fantasy as Mads pushes just the head of his dick into Hugh's mouth. “Hold it right there, you haven't earned any more.”

He can feel Hugh's tongue flicking against the slit, tasting and relishing in doing so. But his eyes are still screwed tightly closed. Mads, reaching down, taps lightly against his cheekbones until he opens his eyes, and he is lost. Pupils blown, eyes manic and wide, this is a creature of Mads’ making. He is insatiable and content to it. 

Fighting temptation to shove into Hugh's throat, Mads begins to masturbate instead, wishing he could watch himself leak onto the other’s tongue, but overwhelmingly content with the gentle suction. 

“What else would you do for me, hm? Would you dress up for me? Put you in a skirt and some lingerie?” His breath coming in harsh pants now. “Make you push the panties aside and finger yourself open for me before I shove you down and push your skirt up, fuck into you like you belong to me. Because you do, don't you? You're mine. And fuck, you're so beautiful when you are.”

Hugh moans, almost screaming. And that's going to be the end of it, there's no going back from here. Mads shoves in further, letting his cock rest just before Hugh's throat as he speeds up his strokes and comes with a loud gasp. Once he feels his body recover, he quickly pulls out and presses his hand to Hugh's jaw, forcing his mouth open and letting him see his come. Letting go, he leans down and presses a gentle kiss to Hugh's cheek. 

“Swallow.” He does.

Moving off of Hugh's chest to lay down on the bed almost feels like falling back to Earth after a long journey. He supposes this is merely the beginning of one. 

Hugh moves to get up - “Should I return the favor?” - the wet spot on his pants gives away exactly how much he enjoyed Mads’ rough handling, and he merely strips down before climbing back into bed. He reaches over silently, both of them too afraid to speak now that the moment has calmed, and grasping at Mads’ shirt, pulls at it until Mads gets the hint to strip himself, lifting and wiggling his hips to remove his pants and finally, finally be completely naked. It feels like a step they should've hit before this point, but he isn't going to say anything.

Hugh curls up against his side, face tucked into his neck and fingers gently carding through chest hair. “Did you mean it?”

“All of it. What part?”

He feels, more than hears, the shuddering breath. “That I'm…”

“That you're mine?”

“Yeah, that I'm yours. Your girl.” The last part so quiet that too is merely felt. The smell of shame is threatening to overwhelm the smell of sex. Mads wishes he had Hannibal’s sense of smell at the moment, wishes he had the grace to know he wasn't going to make a misstep here. 

“If you want to be, then yes.”

“I do. I want all of that.”

“Then I'll give you all of it. And more.”

Hugh settles down at that, body relaxing until eventually he settles into the familiar heaviness of sleep. 

When he wakes the next morning, Mads is gone but there's a note. 

_Shouldn't get caught with the crew making early morning alarm calls. Not that I'd mind showing you off, but you might want to think about it first. I'll leave my door unlocked tonight, just in case some beautiful girl should find her way to me. x_

There's a tube of lipstick holding the note down, something cheap and inevitably from the hotel gift shop three floors down. But it's bright red and as Hugh stares at it, he can imagine just how it'll look smudged over swollen lips.

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit me on Tumblr - notacannibalreally.tumblr.com


End file.
